Blizzard of Odd: Pedaling to the Bitter End

(Picture courtesy of "Daddo One")

As you may know, New York City and a good chunk of the East Coast is currently being pummeled by a snow-laden "nor'easter"--or, as people in Minnesota call it, a "beach day." Yes, people like "The Nonplussed Minnesotan Commuter" may scoff, but our local media is already dubbing this storm the "Snowpocalypse," or "Snowmageddon," or "God's Dandruff," or any number of irritatingly hyperbolized sobriquets, and life here has slowed to a virtual trackstand. I had resolved not to panic, but when I checked my Twitter this morning (a morning "Twitter checking" can be quite invigorating) I was horrified to discover that "Bicycling" magazine had actually closed:

Not only was this storm powerful enough to shut down an entire publication, but it was also forcing them to ski! While this is a perfectly reasonable course of action for laypeople, it seems to me that a magazine called "Bicycling" should adhere a little more steadfastly to its subject instead of closing down and defecting to another sport as soon as the weather gets crappy. Don't they have a Pugsley or some studded tires to test? This is like the staff of "Surfer" magazine saying the water's too cold so they're going to go skateboarding instead, or like visiting Martha Stewart's Twitter for a delightful recipe and reading, "Fuck this, I'm going to McDonald's." (By the way, if you're Martha's two millionth follower you'll win a Singer sewing machine. She's already got 1,886, 134 followers now, so all I've got to do is create 115,866 Twitter accounts and follow her and that machine is mine! I'm sure it's a good one too, because Martha knows sewing almost as well as she knows Great Head.)

Moreover, it's well known that the entire cycling world looks to "Bicycling" like the financial world looks to the New York Stock Exchange, so I realized that if they're shutting down everyone else may follow suit. Panicked, I headed right for Tour de France winner Alberto Contador's Twitter, and sure enough he was off the clock too:


Next, I checked in with mail order retail giant Performance's Twitter, where I read these terrifying words:


It seemed as though one by one the storm was felling the mighty giants of cycling. Fortunately though, there were some holdouts. The popular Internet TV series Pedaling, for example, continued to miss the point as always:

Also, occasional cycling writer Joel Stein was clearly making the best of a bad situation:

It's certainly some sort of "geddon" when Joel Stein is the world's only remaining cycling writer. This is like North Korea attacking the United States (I understand Kim Jong Il has been stockpiling ICBMs armed with R-Sys warheads for this purpose) and Gloria Fallon becoming president through the line of succession.

Speaking of "Pedaling," it just so happens that they have released their final episode, entitled "Herbs & Botanicals." Having watched the entire series up to now, it seemed a shame not to watch this one too. Sure, it's a waste of time, but sometimes you feel compelled to finish something even though you have nothing to gain in the end. (This is the same approach I have to bike racing--it's called "The French Method.") Since this was the grand finale, I had hoped that they'd reunite "The Fixie Crew" (subsequently downgraded to "The Single-Speed Crew"), or maybe even gather everyone who's ever been on the show for a big meal like one of those stupid all-star classic rock tribute concerts. Instead, though, they tapped "The Saffron King" for an encore, which also makes sense because when you've loaded the bases like the producers of "Pedaling" have you want to bring out your heavy hitter:

Evidently sprung from jail, the Saffron King is indeed living it up, and he's rubbing the DEA's nose in it. Not only is he wearing a psychedelic shirt and pushing "exotic spices:"


But he's also supplying a "hidden speakeasy" (a hidden speakeasy is like a regular speakeasy, only more redundant):

If you're unfamiliar with the "speakeasy" concept, it's the latest thing in trendy New York City drinking. Once upon a time, during prohibition, a speakeasy was an illegal bar where you'd drink "bathtub hooch" or whiskey that had been smuggled from Canada in the tires of Model Ts. (I believe you'll find all of this to be historically accurate.) Now, it's a fashionable bar without a sign that you can read all about on "Yelp," and where you can quaff $15 cocktails made by "mixologists." ("Mixologists" are pretentious bartenders who "curate" drinks instead of making them.)

But before we get to see the speakeasy (I believe this one is called "The Douchery") we've got to accompany the Saffron King on another errand. By the way, if you thought he looked miserable last time, just wait until you see him on the cobbles:


Also, the Saffron King has always looked familiar to me. At first I thought it was because he may have sold me some bad "Wednesday Weed" (or, as he called it, "great oregano") in Washington Square Park years back, but I finally realized it's because he looks kind of like Richard Libertini. That's the guy who played Chevy Chase's boss in "Fletch:"

As well as Praka in "All of Me:"

The above footage is actually not from "All of Me;" it is in fact DEA footage of the Saffron King desperately flushing his stash prior to his last arrest.

Anyway, it will hardly surprise you to learn that the Saffron King's errand involves providing some sniveling junkie with his "fix:"


Then it's on to the speakeasy:


Which is clearly a highly fashionable meth lab:


The head "mixologist" sounds like a hybrid of Werner Herzog and Bruno, and he's sporting a studiously windswept hairstyle and a chin-to-shirt drop that would make a bike designer blush:


Here he is sampling the product:

("It's pure.")

And here he is making the world's most expensive Flaming Moe:


Then the Saffron King tells the shifty-looking guy in the vest that he wants to make his own drink:


I'm not sure I heard him right, but I'm pretty sure the Saffron King said he planned to call it the "Measured Barbarian," which sounds less like a beverage and more like this:


He also says, "For the mouth feel we're going to use some egg whites," which the shifty-looking guy proceeds to add:

I'm no mixologist, but I guess that "mouth feel" is the pretentious bartending equivalent of "colorway." I'm also not sure if "Measured Barbarian" is a bad name for a drink that has an egg white mouth feel, or if it's actually the most appropriate name possible. I guess it all depends on which part of the barbarian you're measuring and how:

("All You Haters Feel My Egg Whites")

If that's not enough to frighten you away from The Douchery, then perhaps the fact that your drink actually needs to be harvested will convince you that your time and money is probably better spent at your local happy hour:

Feels like a snowjob to me.